


What Charlie makes.

by LaurelSilver



Series: Victimised [6]
Category: Hollywood Undead (Band)
Genre: Gen, Guns, Porn Filming, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, kidnap, snuff film
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 09:33:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14746307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaurelSilver/pseuds/LaurelSilver
Summary: "Girls look at me like 'that guy must make p-rnos!'"Charlie Scene, Pigskin.Featuring a surprise new character.





	What Charlie makes.

**Author's Note:**

> This snuff film stars;  
> Victim; anyone you want them to be. The only requirement is that they have both hands, long enough hair to pull and don't wear false teeth/dentures. Beyond that they can be anyone you hate. Call it catharsis. Gender doesn't matter, Victim is referred to as 'they'.  
> Charlie Scene; the masked man.  
> Brian Cox; the cameraman.  
> You; yes, you, reading this now. On the assumption that you have some sort of antivirus on your computer and occasionally check your emails.  
> (Also mentioned; Funny man and Danny)
> 
> Just to be very clear;  
> 1\. I have not done, nor do I have any intention of doing, anything described in this fic. This fic is pure fiction.  
> 2\. I don't think Charlie and Brian have done, or has any intention of doing, anything described in this fic.  
> 3\. I do not encourage or condone anything described in this fic. This fic is pure fic. Recreating this fic, or anything similar, is illegal and immoral and very fucked up.  
> 4\. You are not obliged to read, finish reading if you start, or comment/kudos if you finish. There is no story here. It just mindless violence for no real reason.  
> 5\. Victim having any similarities to anyone real or fictional is unintentional.
> 
> Just to reiterate;  
> This fic contains RAPE.

It was the name in the email description that made you open it. You knew the name all to well. It made your blood boil and your teeth grind, the mere thought of them all up in your inbox like they belonged there.

You opened the email. It was from a throwaway address, ‘?v=M-PHgF5MJvx@cpsbc’, and was completely empty. Only an attachment labelled ‘pcihgasrkliine.mp4’, that downloaded straight to your computer.

You panicked. The file opened itself, loading faster than your computer usually manages. The image glitched to life, grainy and lumpy. A pair of feet walked along a dirt-path, the camera shaking with every step. It shuddered and lifted as the cameraman hauled the camera onto his shoulder.

He was approaching two people, one dressed in all black wrestling with someone else. The other person let out a scream for help.

You flinched back from your computer. The cameraman approached the pair, getting in close to Victims face. You knew that face all too well. You’d fantasised about punching it in on a daily basis. They whimpered from your monitor.

They screamed again.“Please!” they begged, “Please, I swear I won’t tell anyone, please!”

The masked man smacked them across the face. They yelped, and the masked man shoved them to the floor.

“You ready for this -------?” the cameraman asked. The audio censored the last word out with a blared beep that made your headphones crackle.

“Yeah, man,” the masked man said. He was wearing a black bandanna over his nose and mouth, and it muffled his voice.

Victim scrabbled to get up. the masked man grabbed them by the waistband and dragged them back as they screamed.

“No one can fucking hear you, bitch!” the cameraman yelled.

The picture shook as it followed them, the masked man shoving Victim back to the ground and sitting on them. He pulled his belt off, a pixelated line growing from his crotch.

Victim reached up and yanked at the bandanna. The image glitched, an orange splotch hovering where the masked man’s face should be.

The masked man whipped his belt. The cameraman zoomed in, the buckle having opened a wound in Victim’s cheek. the masked man snatched the bandanna back.

The camera pulled back up as he replaced the bandanna. The orange splotch vanished to show the masked man adjusting the plain fabric to his jaw. There was something strangely familiar to you about the image. Blue catering plasters sat around the knuckles of his fingers.

“You good?” the cameraman asked.

The masked man nodded and gave his friend the thumbs up. Victim scrabbled at him again, screeching. the masked man grabbed them by the wrists, pulled them up and threw himself backwards. His knee pulled up between them, and Victim slammed into his knee face-first with a crunch. Your stomach twisted at the noise.

Victim yelped and fell back, and the masked man let them. He rolled them over and fastened their hands behind them with his belt as they sobbed.

“Hey -----,” the masked man said, “Get over here.”

“Yeah?” the cameraman said, “I’m here, man, what you want?”

The masked man rolled Victim back over and pulled them up by the front of their shirt. Victim tried to wriggle out of his grasp, tearing their shirt. the masked man grabbed them by the hair instead, dragging them close. They hissed in pain.

The cameraman stood up and swung the camera down, aiming down his body. The masked man pulled Victim up and forced their face into the cameraman’s crotch.

“Beg for it,” the masked man said. He shook Victim, and they sobbed. “Beg for his cock, you dumb bitch.”

Victim sobbed. The cameraman zoomed in on their face as the masked man forced them to look up. Blood ran from their nose, coating their teeth and lips as they whimpered.

“Beg, or I’m gonna knock your fucking teeth out,” the masked man said.

“Please,” Victim begged, “Please let me go, please-”

They reeled sideways as the masked man punched them. He followed, mounting them and punching them repeatedly, the hits thudding dully in your headphones. Victim yelped and cried with each hit, the cameraman following around to capture the way their head was knocked side to side.

The masked man punched, and pulled them up by their hair again. Their face was bloodied, split open in several places across their forehead and cheeks. They choked, and the masked man let them twist to spit.

The cameraman crouched to focus closer. Three little white blurs fuzzed on your screen, the image shook, and then the blurs focused into three teeth in the bloodied dirt.

Victim sobbed. The cameraman stood back up as the masked man dragged Victim upright. He shoved them into the cameraman’s crotch again.

“Beg, bitch,” he said. He pressed Victim’s face right up to the cameraman’s fly and pulled on their hair, forcing them to face up into the camera.

“Please give me your cock,” Victim begged, “Please, please make him stop, please give me-”

the masked man pulled their hair again and threw them into the dirt. “Stupid bitch!” He slammed a fist into their stomach.

“Hey! Hey,” the cameraman said, “It’s good enough for me.”

The masked man stared at him, and your headphones popped. His hands moved vaguely, as if he was talking to the cameraman, but no sound came from the headphones. He slumped, straightened, and gestured the cameraman closer. Your headphones popped again. The cameraman handed the camera down, rattling, and the masked man hissed a “Fuck’s sake” as he lined it up.

Victim’s face filled your screen, bloody and beginning to swell. They sobbed. Two of their front teeth were missing, a couple more broken. The third must have been further back in their mouth. You felt like you should be sorry for them, but as you watched all you could feel was a sick satisfaction.

the masked man stroked down Victim’s face. “Say you’re sorry.”

“What?” Victim said.

the masked man slapped them and dragged them back up. “Say you’re fucking sorry.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Say you’re _fucking_ sorry.”

“I’m fucking sorry! I’m so, so sorry, please don’t hurt me!”

“You ain’t sorry, are you?”

“I am! I’m so fucking sorry!”

the masked man slapped them. The image on your monitor shook and pulled back up as the cameraman heaved it back up his body. He leant it on his chest, pointing down himself. His fly and button sat open, limp cock pale in the denim.

Victim whimpered as the masked man pulled them upright again. He guided them by the hair, pulling the cameraman’s cock into their mouth. The cameraman hissed softly.

“Watch your fucking teeth,” the masked man said, “I’ll take ‘em the fuck out.”

Victim gurgled, head pressed into the cameraman’s crotch.

“Suck. Suck on it, you useless bitch.”

The cameraman breathed heavily, and moaned.

“There we go. Fucking good for something.”

“Fuck yeah,” the cameraman moaned.

The masked man laughed. He let Victim go, and they pulled back with a choke.

The cameraman played with the settings, zooming in on Victim’s red face and his wet cock. The masked man pushed Victim back towards the cock, gripping their jaw and holding it open as he forced their mouth around the cock. The cameraman moaned, and a soft slurping noise could be heard when his breath hitched. Blood was beginning to matt into Victim’s hair, clinging to the masked man’s hands.

The masked man let go again. A trail of drool clung from Victim’s lips and chin to the cameraman’s cock as they pulled back to breathe. The masked man laughed, idly stroking the cameraman’s length. The cameraman laughed and hissed a moan as his cock hardened in the masked man’s hand.

Victim sobbed. The camera shook as the cameraman handed it down to the masked man again, and he took Victim by the hair.

“Don’t you fucking bite, now,” the masked man said as he settled camera, zoomed in close to Victim’s face.

The cameraman forced his cock into Victim’s mouth again. They whined as the length filled their throat, thick and hard.

You pressed a hand to your own mouth. Victim choked in your headphones as the cameraman thrust slowly. The masked man chuckled, deep and low and strangely familiar.

The cameraman built up his speed. Victim struggled, the cameraman’s hand tangled in their hair keeping them firmly where he wanted them. He fucked their mouth roughly, moaning. Drool and a little blood dripped down Victim’s front, thick and slick.

The camera shook, and focused back on Victim.

“All the way in, -----” the masked man said, and laughed.

The cameraman pulled hard on Victim’s hair. He dragged them fully onto his cock, until their nose was buried in his pubic hair. They wriggled and gagged, chest heaving for blocked air.

“Eyes up, bitch,” the masked man called, “Eyes up and he’ll let go.”

Victim looked up. Their cheeks hollowed and puffed around the cock, trying to spit it out.

The masked man laughed. “Oh shit! Fucking did it!”

The cameraman shoved them away. Victim gasped and coughed. The cameraman laughed, stroking himself. He stood over them and spat. Victim whimpered.

“Get back up,” the masked man said.

He followed them around, focusing back on their face. Tears were streaming down their bruising cheeks, streaking through blood and dirt. Their lips were swollen, drool dripping down their chin. The cameraman’s spit clung to their brow bone.

“Say you’re sorry,” the masked man said.

“I’m sorry,” Victim mouthed. A soft hiss croaked in your headphones.

“Can’t fucking hear you,” the masked man said, and the cameraman grabbed them by the hair again.

“I’m sorry,” Victim croaked.

“Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What’ you sorry for?”

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?” the masked man swatted at them, “What are you fucking sorry for?”

“I don’t know!” Victim cried, “I’m fucking sorry!”

The masked man smacked them, the cameraman holding them still. Victim spluttered at the hit, jaw trembling. The cameraman dragged them back up to him and forced his cock into their mouth again.

Victim whined and gagged. They stared at you from your computer with glassy, defeated eyes as he thrust. He dragged them closer, fucking their throat without mercy.

The cameraman moaned. His thrusts slowed, pressing hard into Victim’s throat. Victim gagged, and their shoulders shuddered.

The cameraman pulled out. Cum dripped from Victim’s hung mouth, Victim choking on the thick white.

You squeezed your hands over your mouth, bile pressed in the back of your own throat. Your whole body had tensed, your stomach tight, your chest and head completely numb and fuzzed. You couldn’t feel, just stare as the video played on.

The masked man zoomed in and back out. He swung the camera down to his own crotch, his hand cupping himself through his shorts and rubbing in small circles. He pushed his shorts down and pulled himself out, rubbing his hand over his cock.

“Look at that,” he said, “Yeah, fucking beautiful.”

The cameraman laughed.

“Get over here, bitch,” the masked man said, “You want more.”

Victim croaked something.

“Sounded like a ‘yes please’ to me,” the cameraman said.

Victim yelped. The cameraman dragged them into the picture and shoved them towards the offered cock.

“Ah, ah,” the masked man said, “Beg for it.”

Victim sobbed.

“Beg for my cock!” the masked man slapped at them.

The camera shook and rose. The cameraman carried it around and lowered it back down to Victim’s height. The masked man fisted their hair and slapped them a few more times.

“Beg, bitch.”

“Please give me your cock,” Victim spluttered, sobbing and choking.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that, bitch.”

“Please, please, please, I want your cock.”

“Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please, I want your cock.”

“That’s better.” the masked man shoved their bloodied face away.

Victim fell back with a frightened cry. the masked man grabbed their waist and dragged them closer. He rolled them over and pulled their waistband down.

“No!” Victim screamed, “No, please, no!”

“You said you wanted my cock,” the masked man said. He put his hand under his mask, back out, and between Victim’s legs. “You said, ‘Please, please, I want your cock’. Your words, bitch, eat ‘em.”

Victim tensed up as the masked man pressed two fingers straight into their unreadied hole. Short, blunt nails scraped up their walls as he pressed in and out. He pulled out and shoved their waistband down further. He knelt up and dragged them closer.

Victim howled as he forced himself inside. His grip was tight on their raised hips, pulling them close.

He started to thrust with barely a pause, hissing at the tightness on his cock. Victim’s sobbing choked in your headphones, the camera focused on the masked man’s cock as he fucked their hole. Blood dripped as the underprepared skin tore around him, coating him and dripping down Victim’s spread thighs.

Victim sobbed into the dirt. You stared, teeth gritted. Time seemed to stop around you, seconds stretching out with every bloody thrust.

The masked man pawed at Victim’s hip, his thrusts slowed, and he pulled out to cum on Victim’s back. The cameraman dropped straight down, zooming in on the gaped hole as Victim collapsed on their front, and he pulled up to the dripping cum.

“Shit, man,” the cameraman said, “You fucked ‘em up.”

The masked man laughed. “You gotta.”

The masked man grabbed Victim by the back of the shirt and pulled. Victim fell back with a cry, and the masked man dragged them around to face him again. The camera dropped down to Victim’s height.

“Look at me,” the cameraman said, “Look in the camera. Say you’re sorry.”

Victim stared straight into the camera. They stared right out of your monitor at you, sending a jolt right into your core.

“I’m sorry,” they said. Tears streaked from their eyes, mud clung to their jaw, drool and cum dripped from their chin.

“Say it again.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Do you know what you’re sorry for?”

Victim just stared, sobbing silently. You stared back, your chest tight.

“Say it again.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Open your mouth.”

Victim’s jaw dropped.

The masked man’s hands reached into the image. He shoved something long, thick and black into Victim’s mouth and pulled the trigger.

The screen seemed to erupt with red. Victim slumped down, and the camera followed them as they hit the ground, silent. Both men still had their softened cocks out. Blood and brains oozed over the mud.

The image glitched, and the video ended. Your video player closed itself to your emails. The email was gone.

You clicked about. It wasn’t in your spam or your trash, the video wasn’t in your downloads. You scanned your pc through. Nothing. No evidence of this video existing.

Your social media was overflowing with missing person posts for Victim. You stared at the last picture taken of them, their glassy eyes and dull “I’m sorry” burned into your brain.

No one would believe you if you told them about the video. And if their body turned up, you’d be accused of being involved.

You took a deep breath. For all you knew, the video was nothing. Maybe you’re just finally having some sort of mental break, made up the ‘video’ as some fucked up fantasy, and Victim going missing was just a coincidence.

You put your music on shuffle. Your only option now, as far as you could see, was to wait this out and hope it all somehow blows over.

The opening bassline of Pigskin throbbed in your headphones. Funny man purred the first verse, and you tried to relax into your chair.

You could feel your heart in your chest, each panicked pump seeming to echo around your torso and up your neck. Sure, you hated Victim, but no one deserves that right?

So why were you having such a hard time pitying them? Why were you so lethargic about the fact you’ve just watched a video of them getting raped and murdered? What’s wrong with you?

As Danny rounded off the chorus and Charlie Scene took over, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the masked man’s voice had been strangely familiar.

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to Hellish, Daniel, Eight, and anyone else from the Discord that might be reading this. ~~you don't know fear until you know your friend is scrolling through ao3 for dumb tags and then just puts your name in capital letters in the group chat.~~
> 
> Bit different, this one. Writing 'you' (and by extension Victim) vaguely enough to be transferable without being wishy-washy was a challenge. But interesting nonetheless.  
> The lyric, since it's not so obvious on this one, was "Girls look at me like 'that guy must make pornos'" from Pigskin. Plus references to "Yeah I'm the guy that talks about his weenie" (Charlie praising his cock when he got it out) and the background "Oh shit" after Danny's bridge (making Victim look up at Brian).  
> "?v=M-PHgF5MJvx@cpsbc" (the email address) is two references. Add youtube(.)com(/) before ?v=M-PHgF5MJvx and it will take you to Hollywood Undead's own lyric video for pigskin. "cpsbc" is Charles P. Scene and Brian Cox initialised.  
> "pcihgasrkliine" (name of the video file) is the words 'pigskin' and 'charlie' with alternating letters.
> 
>  
> 
> Got talk to a friend, that'll make you feel better. Maybe don't tell them about this, though, that won't help either of you.


End file.
